Doctors are Dicks
by mamapranayama
Summary: Sam doesn't have time to be sick or to navigate the pitfalls of the American medical system, not when there are innocent people to be saved. Set shortly after 'Heart' and 'Hollywood Babylon' Sick!Sam, Protective!Dean. Massive rewrite of chapter 3 to end!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**I own no part of Supernatural or its characters. No profit is derived from this story. It is intended for entertainment purposes only; mostly my own.

_Hi! This here is my first Supernatural Fic! I dedicate this story to my husband who was too stubborn to see a doctor a now has walking pneumonia. He's going to be fine and is already back at work after only taking a day off (because he's so stubborn), but the title of this story is the line he always gave me when he refused to go and see the doctor. Hope you enjoy. :D_

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**Doctors are Dicks**

By Mamapranayama

"Sam..._Sam_...Sammy!" A pillow flew across the darkened room and landed square on its intended target.

"Whuh?...wha's goin on?" Sam darted up from the unexpected an attack.

"Your coughing, that's what's going on and I haven't been able to sleep for days...you either."

"I was asleep, you ass." Sam came back in irritation, tossing the pillow back at his brother.

"Like you can sleep through that hacking you're doing."

"Sorry, it's not like I can control it." Sam's retort only lead to another bout of chest rattling coughs that led Dean to sigh in frustration.

"Face it Sam, its been three weeks since this started, you need to go to a doctor."

"Doctors are dicks, Dean, you say that all of the time" Sam replied with a rough throat once his lungs allowed air to pass into them again. "I'm not going to some med-center or emergency room where they'll make me wait around for eight hours only to tell that I have a cold then charge us $200 for the visit and a bottle of cough syrup that I could buy at a Walgreens for $2."

"Yeah, well that $2 bottle of cough syrup you've been chugging all week isn't doing crap and you know it."

Another round of ferocious coughing was the only thing that managed to stop Sam from coming back with a scathing remark from Dean's accusation as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and leaned heavily onto his knees. Dean flopped back down in the bed watching his little brother, torn between believing him and wanting to grab his pigheaded ass, throwing him into the car and dragging him to the nearest hospital.

Once the fit had passed, Sam rubbed his chest as it flared painfully then got up and headed for the bathroom, washing his face and getting a drink of cool water from the sink, hoping it might soothe his raw throat and lungs. Truth was, he felt like crap, but they had things they had to do. There wasn't any time to be sick.

"Sam..." He heard Dean call out from the bedroom.

"I don't want to hear anymore, Dean." He shot back. "I'll be fine in a few days, besides I think I found us a job last night after you fell asleep."

"The job can wait...you need to get better first."

"People are dying, Dean..." Sam blew him off as he walked out of the bathroom to see his brother out of bed and slipping on a pair of jeans.

"When aren't they?" Dean grumbled, zipping up then tossing on a t-shirt.

"C'mon. Take a look. " Sam gestured for Dean to come over as he opened his laptop and brought up the info he found last night . His brother came up behind him and looked over his shoulder while he relayed the situation to him.

"There's an apartment building in downtown Atlanta that has had four women die in apparent suicide over the last ten years- the last one, just a couple of days ago. All of them fit a certain profile....young, blonde and single and each of them supposedly jumped to their death."

"You don't think they committed suicide." Dean stated.

"No. Not a single one of them had a history of depression, but with no signs of anyone coming into their apartments, their deaths were all ruled suicides. However, the strangest thing is that all of them jumped shortly after getting out of the shower, all of them without bothering to get dressed first."

"You mean naked girls are jumping off buildings? Dean asked. "and you didn't wake me up?"

Sam smiled, he knew he had Dean in his net then.

"What are we waiting for?" Dean grabbed his overnight bag and headed for the motel room door. "Let's go save the naked chicks."

OOOOOOO

"Don't you think it's a little ironic how everything in this city is named 'Peachtree this' or 'Peachtree that' yet we have yet to see one damn peach tree since we got into Georgia?" Dean asked with a crooked grin.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and didn't bother to respond as his head and chest felt like they were going to implode when they finally pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the Peachtree Place apartment building. Three hundred miles of Metallica, AC/DC and for some reason, Foreigner, was usually enough to bring on a migraine in and of itself, but with chills coursing through him and what seemed to be the weight of an elephant sitting on his chest, Dean's sarcasm did little to improve his mood. Sam was feeling more miserable than ever and he was beginning to admit to himself after his hundredth coughing fit that this was more than just a cold and it had been going on long enough.

"Can we just get to the job?." Sam grumbled as they got out of the car then gripped the hood as a sudden coughing jag took hold, leaving him feeling a little on the dizzy side afterward as he fought to catch his breath.

"Sam, you look and sound like shit. We can just come back later."

"No, Dean." He came back breathlessly then straightened up as if to prove that he didn't feel like falling over. "I'm fine. What if whatever is here decides to pick another victim? We're here, so let's go kill this thing."

Dean stood his ground, crossing his arms and putting on his best over-protective, big-brother face.

"No. You're not fine. Why don't you just admit that you're sick?"

"Dean, don't be a jerk."

"Then don't be a bitch."

The two brothers faced off, neither backing down until Sam began to feel his throat tickle again and the urge to cough overtook him and there was no fighting it after that as more painful hacks coursed through his chest.

"See what I mean? We need to get you to a doctor"

"Fine." Sam conceded when he could breathe again. He had to admit that it might not be such a bad idea to see a doctor after all and get some decent medicine and few days rest, but it would have to wait until they had done their job. "but let's do this first." He pleaded.

Dean narrowed his eyes, concerned by the dark circles and pale complexion Sam was sporting, but realizing that he wasn't going to be able to drag Sam away, he sighed, giving in to his little brother's assurances that he could do this, even if it went against everything his gut was telling him.

"Okay....but if I think for one second that you can't back me up in there, then I'm calling this off, naked chicks or no."

"Fine." Sam nodded in agreement and the two headed for the trunk to gather the necessary supplies.

"Alright, now what exactly do you think we're dealing with here?" Dean asked as he loaded a shotgun and shoved it inside a duffle bag. Sam had already explained the gist of the job during the drive to Atlanta, but he really hadn't been paying much attention.

"Well, I dug into the history of the building and about ten years ago there was a murder on the fourteenth floor of a young, single blonde woman, just like all of the girls that have dying recently. The super, John Mills, confessed to pushing the girl off of her balcony."

"She naked too?"

"Focus, Dean...can you do that for a moment?." Sam ran a hand through his hair in irritation before continuing "Yeah, she was naked and wet like she had just come out of the shower and was surprised by her attacker. After Mills was arrested, he committed suicide, hung himself in prison and according to prison records, left a suicide note that explained that he killed the girl because she had reported a hot water problem to the city housing inspectors and he lost his job. All signs point to this guy being our problem, but the thing is, his body was cremated by the state."

"So, you think he might have some remains left here in the building and his spirit is attacking these girls again out of what...Revenge?"

"It fits. The girls that died all put in complaints about the hot water going out. The police are calling them suicides because there's no physical evidence that anyone came into their apartments. Plus, this building has been through an endless list of supers, some of them only staying a few days, claiming to hear strange noises coming from the boiler room and there have even a few sightings of a man that appears then vanishes without a trace. All of them matches the description of Mills."

"'Kay, sounds like cake. We go in, check out the boiler room, find whatever piece of Mills got left behind, salt it, torch it, then get you to the doctor." Dean slapped Sam on the back, not helping his younger brother's migraine situation any.

"Yeah, easy." Sam mumbled in agreement, pinching his nose as though it could push out the pain in his head. "Then again, when has anything ever been that simple?"

OOOOOO

"Building inspectors? Weren't you guys here just last week?" Jimmy McElroy, Peachtree Place apartments' current superintendent questioned in a gravelly southern drawl as the two brothers stood side by side in his office. "You guys got any kind of ID?"

"Sure." Dean pulled out a billfold at the same time as Sam and they both handed the clearly annoyed super their ID's.

"Dean Hetfield and Sam Ulrich..." Jimmy the supers mused as he read, but he seemed to buy it. "Like I was saying. We passed inspection last week. What's wrong now?"

"We got a few complaints about the hot water."

"Yeah, yeah , yeah...I get a complaint about once a week about it, but I'm telling you, Our boiler is working just fine."

"Mind if we take a look at it?" Dean asked.

"Suit yourself" sighed Jimmy as he grabbed a set of keys and tossed them to Dean. "Just be careful."

"Why's that?" Questioned Sam.

"Because, according to the previous super, a guy lost a hand a few years ago checking that thing out."

"A hand? How'd he do that?"

"Now, I don't know if this is actually true or not and it could be just another urban legend, but I guess the guy got it caught inside one of the hand holes that are meant for inspecting the pipes. He must have caught it between something and his hand swelled from the heat because he was too stupid to turn it off and wait for it to cool. I was told that he was stuck in there for almost two days, must have been hell with it being so hot down there. Story goes that no one heard him yelling for help since it's in the basement. He lived alone and wasn't too well liked around here, so no one was looking for him. So, out of desperation and delirious from a lack of water, he cut it off with a pocket knife."

"He cut off his own hand? With a pocket knife?....Dude, that's hard core.." Snorting in amazement, Dean shook his head.

"Yeah, nasty huh?" Jimmy agreed.

"What happened to the hand?" Sam asked and the super gave him a 'are you kidding me?' kind of look.

"How the hell should I know? Anyway, the guy got what he deserved if you ask me, I hear he pushed a girl out a window or something, but I don't know the whole story, it was before I started working here. "

Convinced that they were on the right track, the boys took that opportunity to take their leave of Jimmy and walked out of the office towards the basement stairs.

"You believe that story? You actually think that our spook's hand is still in the boiler?" Dean asked as soon as they were alone.

"Could be, I remember reading in his prison records that he had a prosthetic left hand, I didn't think too much about it at the time as they never listed a cause for him losing his hand. That could be what happened. It could also be a reason for his decline in mental health and why he was so angry afterward, something like that has to have an adverse effect on a person's psyche."

"But, what I don't get is how it could still be in there." Dean wondered. "It's been ten years, I mean didn't they look for it or wouldn't it have burned up?"

"They probably weren't looking for it. It wasn't as if it was going to be of any use to Mills anymore. They probably figured it must have fallen into the furnace. I guess it's possible that it fell between the pipes instead to a spot where the furnace couldn't reach it. Either way, we know something must have been left behind or Mills wouldn't be hanging out here."

"Okay, I guess that's possible, but what I really want to know is... how come you know so much about boilers?"

"It's called reading Dean, you should try it sometime."

"I read."

"I mean something other than Penthouse forum letters."

"Okay, Genius, then tell me this. If that hand's still stuck in there, how are we supposed to get it out without getting our own hands stuck?"

"I don't know...How about we use a pole or something to fish it out."

"Oh! I know just the thing! Wait here...I'll be right back." Dean took off, leaving Sam in the hallway. Once alone, Sam slumped against a wall, exhausted. He was beginning to have his own doubts about being physically capable of facing a spirit head-on, especially if it was the kind of ghost that like tossing people around. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a couple of aspirin, popping them into his mouth to chew them up. It tasted horrible, but he prayed it would keep the fever and headache away for long enough for them to get the job done.

Dean was back about a minute later, carrying a large, wrought-iron fire poker that Sam had never seen before

"You keep a fire poker in the car?"

"What?...No...I saw it by the fireplace in the building's foyer when we came in. Why would I keep one in the car? That would be...weird."

"Yeah, I suppose it would be weird compared to having an arsenal in there and twenty pounds of rock salt." Sam came back sarcastically.

"C'mon, let's go take care of the situation at hand..." Dean snickered. "get it? At _hand_?" Sam only shook his head at the lame joke and walked off.

"What? You got _hand_ it to me..it was funny."

"Shut up, Dean."

OOOOO

Sam was trailing behind Dean by the time they started down the staircase to the basement. The aspirin had done little to take the edge off his headache and if anything, he was feeling worse. Dragging slower and slower with each step, a fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead and he had to stop, grabbing onto handrail as another bout of coughing took hold.

"Son of a bitch..." Dean stopped and turned around, not liking what he was seeing and cursing the stubborn nature of his little brother.

"Shit, Sammy, I swear to God-" He complained, then climbed back up to Sam and pounded on his back to help loosen up some of the gunk trapped in his lungs. "We don't need to do this today. We can come back..."

"We're here now, Dean." Sam wheezed and cleared his throat. "and we've already used our cover story to get in. It's now or never and there are women here that are still in danger. I don't know about you, but I don't want to lose any more innocent people on our watch."

"Lose anyone else? What the hell?" Dean questioned, then a realization struck him. "Is this still about that werewolf chick, Madison?" Sam turned away wearily and Dean knew he hit a sore spot. "C'mon Dude, that was a month ago, you got to get over it already. I know you liked her and all, but you can't save everyone."

Sam's head shot back around, his nostrils flaring in sudden anger.

"We didn't just fail to save her, Dean. I killed her..."

"She was a monster, Sammy. She wanted you to do it." Dean had Sam by the collar now and was dangerously close to his face, his eyes blazing into Sam's. "It's time to let it go."

Sam pushed Dean away and went around him, heading down the stairs with renewed vigor, powered by anger.

Dean sighed with a roll of his eyes. Sometimes Sam could be such a drama queen.

OOOOOO

"You see anything?" Sam asked while he salted the only exit and sealed them inside for whatever might come their way.

"I'm looking already, give me a minute, will ya?" groused Dean as he tried to peer into the small hole on the side of the boiler. It was hotter than the hinges of Hades in the room and being so close to the boiler only made the sweat from his forehead pour down into his eyes and sting them.

Flashing his light into the small space, he hoped to find whatever they needed to soon and just get out of that hell hole. Seeing a small shape near the bottom of the pipes, Dean could just make the tip of finger bones

"Dean! Look out!" Sam shouted to his brother as a force pushed him backwards and he landed hard against the far wall, knocking the wind out of him. Mills' spirit, a figure dressed in grey coveralls and wielding his claw-like, prosthetic hand like a club. He loomed over Dean as he scrambled away and tried to get his lungs to work again. The spirit lunged and came at him for another go, taking another whack at Dean and he rolled to the side to escape, but was clipped across the back. Dean growled in pain just as the vengeful spirit swung his arm down to bash his head in, but before he made contact, a shotgun blast echoed across the cinder-block walls and the spirit burst into smoke.

"Hurry! He'll be back." Dean shouted from the floor, gesturing for Sam to get back to the boiler. "Whatever is in that thing, he really doesn't want us to find it."

Sam went back to the hole in the boiler and took up trying to fish out the now skeletal hand with the iron fire poker. Dean picked himself off the floor and ran back to the door, opened the duffel bag and grabbed the other shotgun, ready for Mills to come back.

"C'mon..c'mon..." Sam begged as the poker again and again picked up the hand and dropped it, like a cheap skill crane machine, not getting a good grip on it.

"I'm not sure I can get it out." Sam admitted. "I can barely see it. I need more light."

Dean came up behind Sam and shone his flashlight into the space all the while keeping his eye out for Mills and his finger over the trigger of his shot gun. Sam tried over and over to pick up the hand, but even with Dean's hyper vigilant eyes, neither one of them was prepared for when Mills suddenly reappeared right next to Dean, picked him up bodily and tossed him across the room again, losing hold of the shot-gun.

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

"Get the hand, Sam!" Dean yelled back as he had to fight back with his fists, but damn if Mills wasn't one roided up spirit as he landed blow after blow to Dean's face.

The spirit grabbed Dean's neck and lifted him off the floor the threw him into the wall. Dean felt his head make sharp contact with concrete and darkness threatened to take hold of him, but seeing Mills come up behind Sam as he tried to get a hold of the hand had him back on his feet.

Knowing that the ghost would be gunning for him next, Sam struggled with the poker and finally got a hold of the hand, but dropped it again just before he felt two hands around his neck. Thrown to the floor, the ghost pressed his weight onto Sam's chest with a murderous and insane howl as he choked the breath out of him. The corners of his vision grew dark and just before the blackness took over he heard his brother shout.

"No! Goddammit, get off of him you son of a bitch!" before it could kill Sam, Dean ran to the boiler, grabbed the salt and flung it towards Mills. With a scream, the spirit disappeared , leaving Sam lying still on the floor.

Right then, Dean saw his opportunity to finish the spirit off once and for all and he cursed his stupidity for not thinking of it sooner. Wasting no time, Dean began to carry out his new plan. Reaching inside the bag, he took out the bottle of lighter fluid and then tossed a generous helping of salt into the boiler, aiming for the hand. Satisfied that it was coated, he sprayed the lighter fluid inside then lit a match and tossed it toward the hand.

"Shit!" he missed the hand and the match went out. He lit another just as he saw Mills return beside him. Dean tossed it in and smiled as he saw it light, the fire growing and leaping across the remains. Half a second later, he watched in satisfaction as Mills' spirit burst into flames and disappeared.

"Got him, Sam." Dean called out, but was met with silence. "Sam?"

He turned to see Sam continuing to lie still on the floor and he darted to his little brother's side, touching his neck to feel for a pulse. He was alive, but the clammy heat emanating from his skin had Dean shocked.

"Shit, Sammy... You're burning up."

TBC....


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are owned by people with a whole lot more money than myself. I just borrow them for my own amusement.

_A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews everyone, hope you like this next chapter. :D_

**Chapter 2**

"Sammy...C'mon... Wake up, buddy."

The light tapping against Sam's face soon turned into more of a slap out of desperation to revive him, bringing on a moan from the younger Winchester and Dean sagged in relief.

"Hey, you with me?" he asked.

"Quit slapping me, man..." Sam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not feelin' so good here...."

"No shit, Captain Obvious."

Sam opened his eyes and moaned again before another round of coughing hit and stole his breath away. He fought against the spots that formed over his vision as he rolled to his side.

"Here...up you go." Dean put an arm under Sam's shoulders and had him sit up to ride out the remainder of the fit as he patted his back.

"Okay, our job's done, Sam. " Dean began to point out. "Mills is toast and innocent naked chicks are safe to take showers once again, so let's get you out of here and to a hospital."

"I don't need a hospital." Sam tried to argue."I'm not dying."

"Right now, you're in no position to tell me what you need and don't need. I'm taking you to see a doctor...end of argument. Now, I sure hope you can walk, cause you're as heavy as you look and carrying you up the steps ain't gonna happen."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I can walk."

Dean hauled Sam up to his feet then grabbed their weapons and supplies, shoving them back into the duffel bag before they left the boiler room.

The cool air in the hall outside of the boiler room was a welcome relief to Dean, but Sam shivered in the sudden change in temperature. Still sore from the encounter with the ghost, he cringed a little inwardly as he looked up the flight of stairs back up to the first floor and he cursed whoever designed the building and decided against having the elevator go down all the way to the basement.

As if sensing his discomfort and weariness, Dean wrapped and arm around Sam's middle to help him as they ascended the steps.

"Let's go, Sammy. Hot nurses await..."

OOOOOO

Dean pulled the car into the medical clinic and parked, cutting off the engine and ending The Who's 'Won't Get Fooled Again' halfway through the song. Looking over at his brother as he slept with his head against the window and mouth open, he knew now would have been the perfect time for pulling a prank on him and drawing a sharpie mustache on him would have been great fun, but seeing him sick like this had him worried.

Both brothers were no strangers to injuries and hospitals, but broken bones, knife wounds and concussions were things that Dean understood. Germs on the other hand, were foreign concepts to him and it was scary to think that after all they had been through, all of the evil demons, spirits and monsters they had fought, that it was tiny microorganisms that were wreaking such havoc.

"Hey Sasquatch, we're here. Wakey, wakey." Dean shook Sam's shoulder and could feel the heat emanating from him through his clothes.

"I'm awake." Sam mumbled with his eyes still closed. "Gimme a minute."

Dean got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Sam who continued to just sit there.

"Well, c'mon, you're not gonna get any better if you don't get off your ass and get inside." Dean tugged on Sam's arm, practically hauling him out of the passenger seat.

"Coming already." Sam grumbled as he got out.

Dean led the way to the front door and held it open for Sam and both of them groaned simultaneously as they walked in.

The waiting room was packed to the gills with people. There wasn't even a chair open for either of them to sit.

"Let's just go back to the motel, Dean..." Sam suggested with a slight whine, not wanting to spend the entire afternoon in that place.

"No way...You're sick. We're here and we're staying until you see a doctor. " Dean was steadfast in his determination to get Sam some help. "Go sit somewhere while I get you checked in."

"Where? There aren't any chairs left." Sam complained.

"Just sit against the wall over there." Dean pointed. Sam shook his head, but was too tired to fight anymore and obeyed his older brother's directive, sliding down the wall miserably to take a seat, shooting deadly looks towards his brother.

Dean watched him for a second then turned to walk up to the front desk.

"Is this where we sign in to see a doctor?" he asked the short, plump nurse or receptionist or whatever she was sitting behind the desk with a disinterested glance up at him.

"Take a number first and have a seat." She ordered with a pinched, nasally voice as if she had better things to do than deal with him.

"You mean I need to take a number to just sign in?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yep."

"How long is that gonna take?"

"Depends on how many people are ahead of you."

"How many people are ahead of us?"

"I dunno, pull a number and find out."

Dean shook his head at the absurdity of it all and pulled a number out of the ticket holder. #53. He looked up at the 'Now Serving' sign and sighed, his shoulders slumping when he saw that it read #25. He turned back to the lady at the front desk, growing angry in frustration.

"Look, my brother's pretty sick over there, he needs to be seen right away."

"Everyone here is sick or they wouldn't be here, _sir_." She came back in irritation. "This is not a hospital E.R., just a walk-in urgent care clinic, If you have a real emergency, I suggest you go there." Ignoring Dean's reddening face, she turned away from him and went back to her computer game of spider solitaire.

Dean felt like throwing something, but instead resorted to saying something indecent under his breath about the woman's questionable parentage that she couldn't hear as he made his was back to Sam, who just watched him sit next to him with droopy eyelids.

"Looks like we're going to be here a while, Sammy." Dean told him

Sam didn't answer and Dean turned his head to see that he was asleep again, the back of his head against the wall and tilted up in a way that had to be uncomfortable.

"Oh for God's sake...here." Dean nudged Sam and offered his shoulder for him to lay his head on.

A man sitting in one of the chairs across from them raised his eyebrows, appraising the brothers in a way that made Dean's skin crawl and he figured he must think that they might be an item given their closeness.

"What?" He asked him in irritation, not liking the creepy smile on the guy's face. "He's my brother- you perv." The man just turned away again with a look of disappointment.

It really was going to be a long, long, long afternoon.

OOOOOO

And it was a very, very, very long afternoon.

They waited for an hour just to have their number be called up to register, then they another hour for the triage nurse, who took Sam's vitals, recorded his symptoms and declared him to have a fever, but not in any danger of dying then sent them back to the waiting room to wait some more. Both brother's went through all of the five-year old copies of Good-housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal before Sam's name was finally called hours later to go to the exam room and wait for the doctor to finally make an appearance.

"The doctor will be with you shortly." A nurse informed them as she walked them into an exam room. Sam climbed up to the exam bed while Dean turned and addressed the nurse.

"When you say 'shortly' is that in normal time or clinic time?" Dean began shortly, but managed a sarcastic smile. "Because the last time someone told us my brother would see a doctor 'shortly' was four hours ago."

"I'm sorry, sir. It's been a busy day. The doctor will see you when he can get to you. So please have a seat. there are some magazines in the corner." With a flip of her ponytail, the now annoyed nurse left them and Dean walked over to the small end table topped with more copies of women's magazines.

"Damn, would it kill them to leave a couple copies of magazines that don't require a vjay-jay to read them." He complained then took up walking around the tiny room to pass the time.

Time slowed, or at least seemed to as the two brothers waited in the quiet. Dean continued his pacing and Sam tried taking a nap, but was too uncomfortable to get any actual sleep.

"Will you just sit, already? Your pacing is making me nauseous." Sam pleaded as he sat up, giving up on the nap and breaking the silence before he lay back down again on the exam table, draping an arm over his eyes to shield them from the overly-bright fluorescent lights above giving him a headache.

"How long have we been in this little room anyway?" Dean groused out loud. "It feels like hours, when is this douche-bag doctor finally going to show up? I mean _come on_...this is ridiculous." Reaching his breaking point, Dean's patience was pushed well beyond his tolerance.

"I hate to say I told you so." Sam replied in a mumble in way that meant just the opposite. " But you saw that waiting room, should have just gone back to the motel room, like I said. At then at least I wouldn't have had to use your bony shoulder as a pillow all afternoon."

"Oh Yeah, well you're welcome for that and for keeping the creepy guy sitting near us from molesting you with his eyes. By the way, you're paying for these drool marks to get removed from my jacket." Dean pointed to the dark, wet splotches on his shoulder.

Just then, there was a knock at the door and a young, tall, gangly man with thick glasses and a stethoscope wrapped around his thin neck strode into the room. He didn't even look old enough to shave, much less be a doctor and Dean did his best to hold back the Doogie Howser jokes at the tip of his tongue.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Newman, how are...?" the doctor began to introduce himself but was cut short as Sam began to cough again, darting up from the exam table to hack some more gunk up, grimacing from the pain it caused deep in his chest.

"Well, I guess I know what your chief complaint is." The doctor surmised.

One five-minute exam later with one very cold stethoscope and the doctor declared Sam to have a bad case of the flu and wrote him a prescription for cough syrup.

Sam wouldn't talk to Dean on the way back to the motel after that.

OOOOOOO

Dean had been in a rare, deep sleep, but was woken-up that night thanks to a strange feeling that something was wrong. Sam's unending coughing, which hadn't improved any even after taking the prescription cough syrup, had seemed to actually get worse since they got back to the room, but Sam had insited that they were absolutely not going back to the doctor after the clinic debacle that afternoon.

Sitting up and looking to his side, he realized with a start that Sam wasn't in his bed anymore and a weird gagging noise was coming from the bathroom.

"Sam?" He called out but got no answer. With a colorful expression, Dean flung off his covers and got up to investigate.

He pushed the bathroom door open to see Sam kneeling over the toilet, hands shaking as he gripped the porcelain tight. Bloodshot eyes looked up at Dean as he came in and stopped short by the sight that greeted him. With teeth chattering and bright-red blood dribbling from his lips, Sam struggled to breathe and address his shocked older brother.

"I think...this is more...than the flu..."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are owned by people with a whole lot more money than myself. I just borrow them for my own amusement.

_A/N: This chapter is a rewrite. _

**Chapter 3 **

Sam felt his knees give out watching the blood drip from his mouth then coughed uncontrollably and painfully again, bringing up another spurt of blood and spraying the floor with bright, red droplets. Strangely enough, Sam thought about how he'd been punched, concussed, stabbed and shot before, but the sight of blood coming up from his lungs without any accompanying injury was more disturbing and frightening than any of those ever were. He shook from the effort it took to just stay upright until he felt himself sliding to the floor in exhaustion, he was just so damn tired and he was so cold his teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

"Shit, Sammy!" Sam felt his brother grab him around the shoulders and haul him up, leading him out of the bathroom and laying him on a bed so he could pull a pair of pants on him, for which he was grateful since he really didn't want to die in his tighty-whities.

After that, things got kinda blurry for him. One moment he was in the motel room and the next he was in the car while Dean drove erratically through the city streets. He wanted to tell him to slow down and not kill them both on his way to saving him, but his thoughts faded in and out, only the bone-chilling cold persisted unabated.

It wasn't until he felt the cessation of movement that he tried to open his eyes again.

"Help me out here, Sammy." He heard Dean order as he pulled him out of the car then helped him to his feet. They were in a parking lot somewhere and instinct alone told him that he needed to put one foot in front of the other. He did his best to walk, but his legs were failing him, as if they had been made of rubber and if it hadn't been for Dean holding him up, he never would have made it past the doors.

OOOOOO

"Somebody, help me!" Dean yelled as soon as he burst through the doors of the hospital E.R, his arms tight around Sam as he half-dragged his semi-conscious brother in.

Seeing the commotion the young man made, a nurse and an orderly rushed over and helped take over Dean's struggle, lifting Sam onto a gurney brought over by yet another nurse.

"What's going on here?" A woman in a white coat rushed up, obviously a doctor by the way she took charge. As if in answer, Sam began coughing again and more blood came to his lips, causing Dean to wince at the sight of it's crimson stain contrasting sharply against his little brother's too pale skin

"You got to help him!" Dean rushed the words out in a near panic as he followed the medical team alongside the gurney as they pushed it towards a trauma bay.

"We'll do our best, sir...What's his name?" The doctor asked

"Sam, his name's Sam. "

Approaching a set of double doors, the gurney went through with the med team, but a pair of hands belonging to a nurse held Dean back.

"It's best if you wait here, sir."

"What?" Dean asked loudly and angrily. "No! I'm staying with him, he's my brother." He demanded, but the nurse refused to back down.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to insist. You'll just be in the way....trust me it's for his own good..." she told him not unsympathetically. Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration, but relented. She gave his a quick reassuring squeeze on the arm before she too disappeared behind the doors, leaving Dean alone to wait and worry.

OOOOOO

Sam was only semi-aware of what was going on around him as he lay shivering and floating in and out of sleep. Every now and then he would catch snippets of voices next to and above him talking rapidly as he was hooked up to machines, poked, prodded and stripped of his clothes.

"Temps at 104" He caught a voice say at one point, thinking to himself that that couldn't be a good thing.

"O2 Sats are at 89% and dropping, Doctor " he heard another voice.

"We've got some massive hemoptysis going on here, I need and CBC and blood type and call for that damn CT for a scan already" A woman called out across the din, barking orders in a way that reminded him of Dean. That made him wonder where his brother was, he hadn't heard any of his sarcastic or smartass remarks since he came in.

"Dean?" Sam called out, prying his eyes open and looking for the one face he knew would always be there for him, but he couldn't see him.

Where was he?

All he could make out was chaos as people floated in and out of his field of vision. A panicky fear began to creep up on him, he didn't want to be alone. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up into a friendly face, soft brown eyes conveying a sense of peace he couldn't understand and he felt himself relax unconsciously.

"It's alright, Sam...just calm down now, you're in good hands here and you're gonna be just fine."

"Who are you...Where's Dean?"

"My name is Cassandra. Don't worry, Dean's waiting for you and you'll see him again soon." Cassandra placed a warm and comforting hand over Sam's brow and he felt a lightness pass through him and everything around him seemed to glow from the warmth that enveloped him. His eyes closed involuntarily and as he slipped into sleep, he heard her voice floating into his mind.

"Just sleep now and rest....I'll be watching over you."

OOOOOO

After what felt like hours, Dean realized it was nearing 4 am and he still hadn't heard anything about Sam. Before that, he'd been haunting the nurses station so much that they had banned him from bugging them anymore and sent him to the surgical waiting area to keep him out of their hair.

Being so early on the morning, he was the only one in the room with nothing to do except watch CNN as they replayed the headlines over and over again in an endless loop and drink what was left of the cold coffee from the pot sitting in the corner.

Damn! He should have stayed with Sam anyway and just pushed his way in to see him already. He should have made that doctor at the clinic give him a more thorough exam and demanded more tests when they went to the clinic yesterday. He should have listened to his gut and just taken Sam to the doctor the first time he coughed whether he liked it or not, then they wouldn't be in this mess now and he wouldn't have to be sitting here sitting on his hands as useful as a screen-door on a submarine. This was all his fault, he knew deep down that Sam had something worse than the flu, he should have been protecting his little brother better.

"Dean Miller?" He heard a woman's voice ask after she poked her head in and looked inside, seeing him wear a rut into the carpet from all of his pacing.

"Yeah?" he replied distractedly after he remembered the fake name he had given the receptionist.

"I'm Dr. Richards, you're Sam's brother, right?" He stopped his pacing then and rushed up to the same doctor that had come to help Sam when he first brought Sam in.

"How is he?"

"He's stable...he's running a high fever and all signs point to a serious chest infection."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, he's got pneumonia and the blood he was coughing was caused by a burst blood vessel. I know it looked frightening, but fortunately it wasn't as bad as it seemed, he only lost a few teaspoons of blood, but it's always a serious concern when we see any kind of bleeding like that occur in the lungs. We've stopped the bleeding with some coagulants, however, what's more alarming is his fever. It's atypical for it to be so high for such an infection and I'm not entirely convinced that it's just the pneumonia causing it. But, I'm optimistic that the antibiotics we've got him on will kick in soon and help bring it down, especially since he's young and healthy.

"But, he's gonna be okay, right?" Dean asked.

The doctor's hesitation set his hair standing up.

"I sure hope so, but he must have been ill for some time, has he been to see a doctor?" She asked with a hint of accusation which Dean bristled against.

"I brought him to a doctor yesterday and that dickhead told us it was just the flu." He shot back, frustration lacing his strained voice.

"Which clinic was that?"

"The one downtown."

"Ah...Dr. Newman, perhaps?" She surmised in bitterness and anger. Obviously, the Winchester luck had brought them to the worst doctor in all of Atlanta.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I've had more complaints about that man....I'm know he's overworked at that clinic, but I swear sometimes it's like the guy got his medical license from a cracker-jack box. I've reported him to the AMA, but they haven't done anything about it yet."

This new information sent Dean's mind in action. Once again, it wasn't the monsters and demons that truly scared Dean, it was people. Sam wasn't the only one getting screwed over by that douch-bag, other innocent people might end up like his brother because that dick was too lazy to do his job thouroghly. If no one else was going to step up and set that guy straight, perhaps he needed to pay him a visit and give him a piece of his mind and maybe his fists as well. But all of that was a fantasy for now and would have to wait until he was certain that Sam was going to be okay.

"I need to see him" He told the doctor.

"We'll be moving him to a room soon, you can see him as soon as we have him settled, okay?" she turned to leave, but Dean had had enough of being jerked around by doctors and grabbed her arm before she could slip out the door.

"No. Not okay. I want to see him now. I've been waiting here this whole damn time when he needed me, so just tell me where he is, now!"

The petite doctor gulped, taken aback by the dangerous light in Dean's eyes as he was dead-set on seeing Sam and no one was going to stop him.

"Alright, follow me." She relented.

Dean followed the doctor as she led him down the corridor to the E.R. Room where he was laying surrounded by machines, IV's and a couple of nurses, that quickly took there leave and gave them some privacy when they saw him enter.

Sidling up to the bed next to Sam's uncharacteristically still, pale form and seeing his eyes closed in a fitful sleep had Dean fighting a lump growing in his throat, threatening to bring him to tears. He had to admit that he hadn't felt this desperate in a long time, not since their father died and he wasn't about to let that same thing happen again. He wasn't about to be left all alone in this world.

Running a hand through Sam's sweat soaked hair Dean leaned in and whispered into his ear.

"You hang in there, Sammy or I'll kick your ass."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**I own no part of Supernatural or its characters. No profit is derived from this story and is intended for entertainment purposes only; mostly my own.

_A/N: This chapter is a rewrite. _

**Chapter 4**

Dean jerked awake, more surprised by the fact that he had fallen asleep than the light tapping on his shoulder. But still, he was unprepared for the touch and he jumped up into full-on attack mode before his mind could catch up with his reflexes, grabbing the wrist of his assailant, ready for a take down if need be. However, one look into the frightened eyes of Dr. Richards, had him turning red in the face from his over-reaction.

"Oh, God!" He let go of her wrist in embarrassment. _Way to impress the chick_, he chastised himself.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you...." She stammered, trying to catch her breath.

"Me too....sorry about that..." He grinned sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to blow it off, as though it was a normal reaction to attack a person that was just trying to wake him up.

"I just wanted to let you know that we got Sam's cultures back." She began after she was recovered.

"And?"

"And they show that Sam's pneumonia is caused by a certain bacteria called legionella pneumophilla."

"Oookay, and that means what in English?" Dean asked, not wanting to hear a lot of medical jargon as he got up and headed for the bed where Sam lay still and pale. Dean touched his forehead and it was still way too warm for his liking, but for the first time since they came in, his little brother seemed to be sleeping soundly without any of the nightmares that had been plaguing him nor the coughing fits that kept him from getting any rest.

"It means that Sam has Legionnaire's disease." Dean turned to the doctor, worry evident on his face. The name alone sounded ominous.

"Is that bad?" He asked.

"It's a specific type of bacteria that thrives in warm, wet environments and it explains why his fever has been so high. He could have caught a cold or the flu first and that weakened his immune system, leaving him susceptible to the bacteria and he couldn't fight it off. I'm going to start him on some stronger antibiotics and I think that should help kill it off and hopefully in a few days he can get out of here."

"So, he's gonna be okay?"

"He should be. He's young and healthy, that gives him a really good chance of a full recovery."

"Where could he have picked this up?"

"Oh anywhere really, but most people catch it from improperly cleaned air conditioning units that blow all of that bacteria into the air."

"Like the ones in cheap motels?" Dean groaned, realizing that dragging Sam's sick butt all over kingdom come and renting out rooms from some of the sleaziest motels in the country may have actually made him worse and he couldn't help the feeling of guilt lodge itself in the pit of his stomach.

"That's one possible source." She agreed, not doing much to assuage Dean's guilty feelings about Sam's illness.

"But, he could have caught it from a water fountain or anything that sprays out water really, so you shouldn't beat yourself up about it." She added seeing his culpable face. "These things just happen sometimes and there's little anyone can do to prevent it. All that really matters is that he's going to be alright."

Dr. Richards placed a comforting hand on Dean's upper arm and gave it a gentle squeeze for the briefest of moments and the two made eye contact. As far as doctor's went, she was definitely one of the nicer looking ones he had ever met and being about his age, also one of the younger ones. If things had been different and Sam hadn't been first and foremost on his mind, he probably would be fantasizing about what was underneath that white coat she she wore, but he just accepted her kindness and returned it with an appreciative nod.

He decided then that not all Doctor's were dicks after all, just the vast majority of them. She turned to leave, but he called out to her before she could exit the room.

"Hey....um...thanks for looking out for my brother and for caring. You're probably the first doctor I've met that wasn't a complete douche-bag."

"Wow...such high praise..." She bit back sarcastically, but with a smile. "But, I'm just doing my job. Doctors are supposed to care for their patients, some of them just forget that." And with that she was gone and Dean turned back to Sam who had begun muttering in his sleep.

Before long, the muttering had turned to thrashing and Dean recognized that Sam had to be in the throws of a violent nightmare. It wasn't the first time he had to try to bring him down from one the last couple of days, but it was still disturbing to see him so upset.

"Sam....c'mon, Sammy wake up, it's just a dream." Dean gently shook Sam's shoulders until his little brother gasped and his eyes snapped opened in surprise and confusion, darting across the room, trying to differentiate between what was reality and what was dream.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice hoarse and breathing heavily through his raw throat. The rough treatment on his lungs caused another spasm to rip through Sam's chest and was powerless to stop the fit of coughing that began, he struggled for breath between coughs, but couldn't bring in enough air. Dean, concerned by Sam's bright red face, and gasps for air, reached behind Sam's shoulders and pulled him up to a sitting position, pounding on his back to help loosen up the gunk in his lungs that blocked the passage of air.

"Take it easy, Sam...you go and pop another blood vessel and I'll make you wish that being sick was your only problem."

After the coughing fit passed, Dean laid Sam back down on the pillow and couldn't help but smile in relief when Sam actually opened his eyes and for the first time in days, didn't have that glassy, fevered and far-away look in them. He looked right up at Dean in confusion, but aware of his surroundings.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy, you with me this time?"

"Yeah...I just had the worst dream...I saw the yellow-eyed demon and the next thin I know I was in a fight, but I wasn't strong enough and this guy kept tossing me around like he was superman. Somehow, I got away from him and suddenly you were there and you were yelling at me and I felt this terrible pain..then I woke up." Sam shook his head trying hard to concentrate on the confusing images of the dream and the feeling of dread it filled him with, but it was already beginning to fade.

"It wasn't as clear as a vision would be and I'm forgetting most of it already...but what if it was a vision, Dean? What if I've just been too sick to make it out clearly? It could mean something...or it could be something that's going to happen...all I know is that it felt.... ominous."

"Aw hell, Sammy, you've had a fever for the last few days-you're bound to have some weird-ass dreams, so don't sweat it. It's probably just your over-active imagination. Besides, even if it was a vision, we can always stop it."

Dean watched Sam in concern, knowing that Sam's recent spat of visions were never wrong, but he refused to think that whatever dream he just had was indeed a vision. It had to be just a nightmare, he convinced himself.

Sam just nodded, too tired to argue with Dean about that right then, but he was going to take the nightmare as a warning: the yellow eyed demon was coming for him and he had to find a way to keep Dean safe.

While he counted on his big brother to watch his back, Sam knew that if Dean had any kind of weakness, it was his over-protectiveness and his single-minded mission to keep him safe no matter the risk to his own self. So, he determined that he would have to prepare himself both physically and mentally to face the demon on his own, it might be the only way to keep Dean alive.

"The only thing you should be worrying about is getting out of here." Dean added, snapping Sam out of his thoughts. "That cute doctor chick seems to thinks that you should be better in just a few days, then we can blow this hot-dog stand and get back on the road again."

"Sounds good." Sam yawned, his achy body still begging for sleep. "As long as you let me pick the music for a change."

"Over my dead body." Dean played along, glad to have his pain-in-the ass brother back.

"That can be arranged."

"Just shut-up and go to sleep, Bitch."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sam's eyes slipped closed. "ya Jerk."

Moments later, he was fast asleep and he never even felt Dean's hand on his head as he ruffled up his floppy hair affectionately before settling back down into a seat to continue his vigil.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:**I own no part of Supernatural or its characters. No profit is derived from this story and is intended for entertainment purposes only; mostly my own.

_A/N: I got through writing this epilogue and decided that I hated what I did in the last two chapters, so I went back and did a massive overhaul, taking out the character of Sandra as I realized she wasn't doing anything good for the story except providing filler, which I didn't want. I suggest going back to chapter three and four and re-reading them as I took out a lot of junk and tried to salvage the whole point of the story, which was to show the devotion that Sam and Dean have for each other. I hope that you find that this version is better than what I had written previously and I apologize for any confusion this might cause. Let me know what you think of this.---thanks! :D_

**Epilogue**

Sam had just finished buttoning up his shirt when Dr. Richards walked into his room and handed him a small stack of papers.

"Here's the discharge papers for you to sign. That is, if you're ready to get out of here."

"Oh yeah. No offense Doctor, but if I spent any more time here I might just go insane."

"No offense taken, this place does that to people. Just make sure you follow all of my instructions, take your medicine and let that brother of yours do all of the work for the next week and hopefully we shall never meet again."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Oh...I was wondering..." Sam began while he signed all the forms. "There was this nurse in the E.R when I first came in. Her name was Cassandra, she was really nice and I wanted to thank her for taking care of me in the ER...I haven't been able to find her, do you know where she might be?"

"An nurse named Cassandra? Are you sure that was her name?"

"Yeah. I don't remember much from that night, but I remember her."

"Can't say that I know a Cassandra that works here, especially since I know all of the nurses that work in the E.R. Maybe you just have her name mixed-up with someone else?"

Sam frowned in confusion. He could have sworn that the woman that spoke to him in the E.R. had been a nurse named Cassandra, but perhaps he had just been seeing things at the time- he did have a pretty high fever at the time after all.

"Maybe... thanks, anyway."

"Anytime. Oh, by the way, Dr. Newman, the doctor you saw over at the urgent care clinic, resigned suddenly. No one really knows why...he just up and left medicine all together. According to the gossip going around, he looked like he'd been in a bar-room brawl when he handed in his resignation letter and it looks like someone taught him a lesson. Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know."

Sam had a sinking feeling he knew who might have been behind that and he groaned a little inwardly.

"So, where is that brother of yours?" Dr. Richards asked.

"You mean that handsome devil Sam's lucky to have as a sibling? He's right here." Dean's voice sounded from the open door, pushing a wheelchair in. "I was just pulling the car around." Sam rolled his eyes as Dean strolled in.

"I'm not riding in a wheelchair, Dean. I can walk."

"Tough. Sit." Dean ordered while Sam put his hands on his hips.

"Actually Sam, it's hospital policy that all newly discharged patients be wheeled out." She grinned, taking Dean's side and giving the older brother a wink.

"Alrighty then. You heard the lady." Dean gestured to the chair with a dramatic bow. "Your carriage awaits, Princess."

Sam sighed in frustration, but being outnumbered, sat in the chair with a huff and crossed his arms. Dean began to push him out of the room, but came to a sudden halt as soon as Sam was out in the hall. Turning to see what the hold-up was, Sam looked behind to see Dr. Richards holding onto Dean's arm then whipping out a business card, handing it to him and staring deeply in to his eyes with a smirk on her face.

"Just in case you're ever in Atlanta again and you're feeling under the weather, give me a ring....I make house calls."

Dean grinned back slyly and took the card, returning her seductive stare. "Hmm, think I might be coming down with something already."

Sam rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Some time today would be great, Dean." Sam called out.

Dean shrugged and gave Dr. Richards a sheepish grin. She gave him a little finger wave as Dean pushed the wheelchair forward with a little more force than was necessary.

"Ya know, you're really lucky you're still not completely healthy or..." Dean began in irritation.

"Or you'd be kicking my ass up and down the hospital halls." Sam finished for him. "Yeah I got it after about the fourth or fifth time you said that." Sam shot back.

"You better watch it, little bro..."

"Like you could really take me on. You have noticed that I'm about half a foot taller than you, right?"

"It's not the height that counts, Sammy. It's the skill"

"Whatever, S_horty._..."

"Shut-up, Yeti wannabe."

"No. You shut-up, turd burgler."

"Make me."

"Maybe I will...."

OOOOOO

Cassandra watched the two brothers as they argued all of the way down the hall and out the door. A small smile came to her face and she knew would miss this. Feeling a presence beside her, she addressed him with out turning.

"It's about time. I've been expecting you, Uriel."

"Why did you disobey, Cassandra? You were told not to interfere and to let Sam die from that burst blood vessel in the motel room, yet you woke Dean up and saved his brother instead. I just want to understand why. If he had died, that would just be one less of those demon-infected children running loose."

Cassandra turned to Uriel, still smiling even though she knew what was coming and the punishment she was certain to endure: separation from the one she held so dear and had worked so hard to protect all these years.

"I had no choice."

"But you are Dean's guardian. Not Sam's"

"Don't you get it Uriel? The death of one of them would mean the destruction of the other. If Sam had died, it wouldn't be long before Dean followed. I did what I had to do to save Dean."

"You've only delayed the inevitable. Sam will still die."

"I had to try. I did it for Dean's soul, not just for his life- He can be very rash when he is desperate."

"It is the way it is supposed to be. We follow orders and all goes according to plan."

"I just wonder where the orders are coming from sometimes." She whispered. "Don't you? They don't seem right to me anymore."

"We are not to question, only obey." Uriel placed a hand on Cassandra's shoulders and she knew her time was up.

"Come, we must go now." As she and Uriel disappeared from the hospital and headed home, she knew for the first time ever, true fear. Knowing that there would be no one to watch over her charge anymore, those two boys would have to look out for each other and she prayed that that would be enough.

**The End**


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